


you're so good to me

by pr_sm



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, please watch the tags and warnings!, this is not healthy story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_sm/pseuds/pr_sm
Summary: In which Connor has a bad feeling, and things go terribly, terribly wrong.





	you're so good to me

Connor knew something was wrong from the moment he stepped through the door. Despite being an android, he could sense the feeling of dread as clear as day. It was certainly a sickening feeling, making his body tense up and his plastic heart beat faster. He looked over to Lieutenant Anderson, his crime-solving partner, stumbling behind him, drunk and late as usual. Usually, this was when he would make a snide remark— _and Hank would deny he ever laughed—_ but the man seemed just as uncomfortable as Connor. It made him feel just a bit safer knowing he wasn't the only one with strange feelings about this place, despite what it truly implied about this situation.

"Hey Connor, you alright? Your light thingie is blinking." Hank's concerned voice brought him away from his wandering thoughts and into the present. The man knew full well what the "light thingie" was actually called—after all, Connor had told him on multiple occasions. He was starting to think Hank did it just to make him annoyed. The android decided not to speak, instead opting for a shrug as he continued to analyze the scene in front of him.

The window to his right had been completely shattered, pieces of glass found both in and out of the home. Thirium and human blood could be found on the glass shards—both had been stained for a while now. The furniture was completely messed up, scratched beyond repair. The dining table chairs were flipped onto their sides. Connor tried to search for any signs of fingerprints but couldn't come up with any. He did, however, find spoiled food on the table, completely untouched, as if someone had been interrupted before they could start their meal. Connor felt a frown forming on his face—Androids definitely did not require food in order to function; it seemed strange that one would engage in this human behavior just because, but it was not an isolated case. This seemed to be a common occurrence with the past few murders he and Hank had been investigating. Either it was an unrelated but coincidental case, or he was investigating the beginning of a motivated serial killer going after androids. He truly hoped this wasn't the case—it seemed as though the killer liked going after deviants, and here Connor was, a deviant, investigating the very crime scene. Not only this, but the androids had only been liberated for a few months now; they didn't need another problem on their hands before they could fully integrate into society.

"The signs so far definitely seen to indicate a break-in, similar to the ones we have been investigating, Lieutenant. It seems strange that no one mentioned any strange noises or mysterious disappearances. I wonder why the neighbors did not report on any suspicious behavior for this long."

When Hank did not respond, Connor whirled around, searching for the man who was nowhere to be seen. He could feel his heartbeat rising once more— _Hank is okay. He is not hurt. The killer doesn't go after humans. He's okay._ He heard subtle, soft breathing coming from one of the rooms upstairs. He quickly identified it as the Lieutenant's, after many sleepless nights of listening to him snore for hours. He made his way up the stairs, reassuring himself that there were no problems. When he made it, he saw a familiar figure standing at the doorway.

"Hank! Thank rA9 you're—"

His mouth almost dropped looking at the room in front of him.

The whole room was covered in blue blood ( _so much blood_ )— the walls, the floor, the doors, the bed. Connor couldn't the bile building up in his throat when he saw what was on the bed.

Well,  _who_.

A younger looking adult android was cuffed by the limbs to the bed, arms and legs stretched out in an uncomfortable and painful looking position. They were completely unclothed, their entire body showed to whoever wanted to see. It was no pretty sight. Connor hesitantly stepped past Hank, going straight for his fellow kind. Kneeling next to the bed, he analyzed the android—their name was Felix, a model AV500 android designed for food service. That explained the food prepared downstairs; perhaps they were practicing for their job. He observed the damage done to them, wincing as a long, scrollable list appeared before him containing everything from bruises to broken limbs to permanent throat damage. How anyone could do this to..  _anything_ —living, nonliving; human, animal, or android—was beyond what Connor was programmed to understand. He heard Hank's footprints shift around the room, profanity barely hidden under his breath.

Before Connor could stand up and readjust his tie, a large object slammed onto the back of his head. He fell to the floor, error messages flowing throughout his vision informing him to visit Cyberlife as soon as possible. A loud ringing noise filled his ears, causing him to wince. He could barely hear Hank yelling for his name before his hearing became too distorted to understand. His audio processor was most likely damaged by the blow, which would cost the Police Department a lot of money. _Shoot_. The detective android blinked a couple of times, sighing in relief when his vision still worked. He tried to make sense of the situation.

A man dressed in a black suit stood before him. His eyes were bright blue, reminding him of a sunny, summer sky. His hair was jet black, slicked back with gel to look presentable. He was holding a gun to Hank, whose hands skittered around where his own gun would be. The Lieutenant's mouth was opening and closing, most likely yelling at something. The man in black threw his head back as if laughing—at what, Connor could not make a guess. Without warning, the man pulled the trigger, the bullet entering Hank's left shoulder. His partner grasped it, falling to his knees with an expression that conveyed pain—pain that no one should ever experience. Connor tried to reach his arm out, trying to yell out Hank's name—trying to yell anything,  _anything_ at all. But his mouth couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but watch himself be dragged away by the man in black, his partner crawling in a poor attempt to follow them. He watched as the door slammed shut, Connor's eyes following shortly after.

**Author's Note:**

> sort of a vent fic, sorry. i'll try to make next chapters longer.


End file.
